


As You Should

by fightforyourwrite



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/M, Lacrosse, Private School, Wheelchairs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-15
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2019-02-15 01:29:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13020399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fightforyourwrite/pseuds/fightforyourwrite
Summary: An incident involving lockers causes Porco Galliard to cross paths with someone he had never met before.





	As You Should

The sling cradling his right arm was a heavy reminder of his mistake. 

Porco Galliard felt like the sling represented his failure, a failure he wore shamefully as he walked the halls of his school.

It was also quite uncomfortable to wear, seeing as Galliard already had issues with his school’s uniform anyway. The sling pushed against his button-front and sweater vest, forcing the material against his skin in a way that itchier than necessary.

Galliard hated it. 

Instead of heading to late afternoon lacrosse practice, Galliard was heading to his locker. 

The curriculum of his classes were definitely held to higher standards than they were last year. Though he didn’t want to lug a bunch of textbooks home with one arm in a sling, Galliard knew he needed to bring home his copy of  **_Advanced Algebra For Competent Individuals_ ** if he wanted to pass mathematics.

He walked to the west wing of the school and moved down the hall, passing other bumbling students on his way to his locker.

When he got to locker 91B, Galliard knelt down and started working the padlock on the door. 

After twisting the knob to put in the number code  _ 17-11-11 _ , the padlock gave in and allowed Galliard to access his locker. 

He grabbed his algebra book with his left hand, wondering just how heavy his messenger bag would be as he rode the bus home. 

If only he had a car.

As Galliard let himself get lost in a menagerie of his own thoughts, he heard someone clear their throat behind him. 

_ “Ahem.” _

After closing his locker, Galliard turned his head to the side to see who he was. 

It was a person he had never seen before. 

Her hair was dark and fell over her face in thin, stringy strands. Her eyes were nearly the same shade, but perhaps just a bit lighter. She appeared to be smiling at Galliard, though he had the feeling that perhaps she was doing it out of smugness rather than friendliness. 

She was also using a wheelchair. 

Galliard couldn’t recognize her. He strained his memory to see if he could recall the sight of that smug grin or pretty face. 

She wore the same uniform as every other girl in the school did. Although, she was wearing fingerless gloves on her hands.

Her feet, clad in a typical pair of black oxfords, were resting quite comfortably in her chair footrest.

“Hello,” greeted the girl. She pointed behind him, “This is your locker, right?” 

“Yeah,” Galliard responded. “Why do you ask?” 

“There’s just a… erm… slight problem,” said the girl. She then pointed upwards, “You see, that’s the locker that was assigned to me on Monday.” 

“Uh-huh.”

“And if you haven’t noticed,” the girl continued. “There’s just something about me that makes a bottom locker just a little bit necessary.” 

She spoke sarcasm like a second language, tinting her every word with just the right about of belittlement and spite. Galliard kind of liked it. 

He tried to say something smart in response. 

“Oh.” 

“It’s nothing though,” she continued, waving things off with a gesture of her hand. “There aren’t any other lockers available for the 11th years, so if you could come with me to the office, we’ll be able to sort this out by 4:30 tops.”

Looking to him, she then extended her hand upwards in a friendly motion, “I’m Pieck, by the way.”

“Galliard,” he introduced plainly. 

“Yeah, I know who you are,” revealed Pieck, much to his surprise. She pointed at him again, “There are two Galliards at this school though, so tell me, are you Marcel? Or are you uh… Porky?”

Galliard frowned. Swiftly, he stood up straight at the occurrence of his given name. “Marcel is my brother, I’m Porco,” he confirmed quickly. “Just call me Galliard, please.” 

The new weight in his messenger bag made it tough to balance on his torso. The tugging caused little stings of pain to rush throughout his shoulder. Grunting, Galliard tried to not let his discomfort show. 

Though Pieck proved soon proved herself to be the owner of a very keen eye, or simply capable of coming to plausible conclusions quickly. 

“Are you alright?” she asked, concerned. “Your bag looks like it’s killing you.”

Galliard grumbled, “I’m fine.” However, he was anything but. 

“What’d you do?” Pieck wondered. “Lacrosse accident?” 

Galliard blinked. The accuracy of her guess was almost unsettlingly correct. “Uh… yeah. That’s almost exactly right, how’d you know?” 

“Lucky guess,” Pieck explained. 

She started pushing on the wheels of her chair and began heading down the hall, an action to which Galliard followed. 

“I know you play lacrosse, so I just put two and two together,” she brought up casually.

“Oh, okay. It was a stupid mistake anyway,” Galliard elaborated, his voice turning bitter. 

“So how did it happen?”

“I was practicing with some guys on the team last week. Long story short, one of them tripped into me and we both crashed to the ground.”

“By accident?”

“God, I hope so,” Galliard admitted, his voice going uneasy.

The incident was a week behind him by now. He wondered how long he could dwell on it before he finally accepted it. At least now, he found ways to laugh at it. 

Galliard shook his head and let his voice brighten into a slightly less sour tone. Though he was trailing behind her, he sped up his step to keep up, “On the bright side, at least only one of us required a trip to the ER afterwards.” 

Pieck laughed. 

The school hallways were still occupied at the time, though most students had left for home once the bell rung. There were still people present, guys and girls of all grade levels loitering near the lockers. 

“I’ll get out of the sling eventually, but the game in two weeks in a bust,” Galliard explained. 

“That sucks,” Pieck said. She gave him a sympathetic look, “If you had a cast, I’d sign it.”

Galliard shrugged nonchalantly, “Can’t really do anything about it now.” He raised his left arm and raked his fingers through his hair, a habitual gesture he did in times of lackadaisical defeat. 

“I’ll miss you at the games though,” Pieck added on. 

Galliard was surprised, “You go to them?”

Pieck nodded, “Yeah, to every one. I’m with the school newsletter. I take photos at our home games.”

Then suddenly, everything made sense to Galliard. “Oh… so that’s how you know I played lacrosse.” 

“Yep,” Pieck confirmed. “I feel like I should tell you though, our stuff on the football games usually get more traffic than anything lacrosse-related.”

Galliard mood fell. His voice went flat as he responded, “Oh.” 

“On the bright side, my photo of Reiner Braun made it into the local paper last year,” Pieck claimed. It was a bit of a noteworthy feat, despite how obsolete newspapers were becoming. 

Grumbling, Galliard tried to keep looking forward, “Yeah, yeah, fucking Reiner Braun…” 

Pieck chuckled. Clearly, his voice wasn’t as quiet as he intended it to be. 

“Not a fan of the guy?” she guessed with a humoured expression. 

“No, he’s my fucking idol,” Galliard sputtered sourly. Sometimes sarcasm came to him easily. “I hate the fucking guy.”

Now Pieck was laughing, doing nothing to hide her snickering. 

Galliard, on the other hand, was still frowning. He spoke in a lackluster tone, “It’s good to see that someone takes joy in my utter destain.” 

“I’m not taking joy in it,” Pieck claimed, though she was still a little giggly. “I’m just finding the humour in it. There’s a difference. Besides, I do that with everything.” 

From the slightly-sarcastic way she spoke, how it almost seemed that she mockingly belittled everything whenever she spoke of it, an idea like that was exceedingly plausible. 

“Yeah, I can see that,” Galliard replied, dryly. 

While Galliard kept his eyes forward, he occasionally turned to the side to look down at Pieck. It was usually for a brief moment, never too long. 

Though as he walked with her, he noticed that she was grinning almost goofily at him every time. It was like she knew something that he didn’t.

“What?” Galliard asked. “Still finding the humour in something?”

“Nothing, actually, well… yeah, it’s something” Pieck stated. 

Her smile persisted, seemingly amused at whatever she happened to be thinking of. “It’s almost like the start of a bad joke.”

“What’s the start of a what now?” Galliard asked, clearly confused. 

“You know, a bad joke,” Pieck explained insistently. “A girl using a wheelchair and a guy using a sling walk into a bar… that kind of thing.” 

It took a few seconds, but after Galliard looked at his sling and then over to her, it finally made sense. 

To his own state of surprise, he let out a laugh. 

“Oh… definitely, yeah. Aren’t we quite a pair, huh?”

“What are you doing after school now that lacrosse is out of the picture?” Pieck asked absentmindedly. 

Galliard looked to her for a second and shrugged, “Dunno. Studying probably. There’s a lot of tuition going into me and Marcel being here, might as well work to make it worth it.”

Pieck nodded, “Oh, totally.” Her voice got derisive again, as to be expected of her. “All this tuition into a proper education and the staff here can’t seem to remember that some people could really use a bottom locker.

“Maybe you can sue the school for that,” Galliard suggested. 

“Nah, I’m too smart for that,” Pieck decided, shrugging. 

Galliard nodded. With a glance over to the parking lot, he grumbled once more. “Wish I didn’t need to walk home with his load on my back.”

“If I didn’t have choir practice after this, I’d give you a ride,” Pieck brought up. 

Galliard looked to her, confused. For a moment, he eyed her wheelchair, but that moment passed quite quickly. 

“In what exactly? In your uh…”

“What? Chair?” Pieck asked. Surprisingly to him, she started to snicker. “Of course not, Porky, in my car. And it’s a great car, you can’t even see the hand controls from the outside.”

“It’s Galliard,” he corrected quickly. “And my bad.” 

Pieck shrugged, “No worries. So far, you’ve given me the least amount of bullshit compared everyone everyone else in this school.” She remained light as she talked, keeping her tone in an easy place. “I’m used to it, so props to you for only being just a little bit ignorant.”

A pang of guilt started to fester in his stomach, though Galliard felt that he deserved it. Perhaps he did, as what he said was truly oblivious and uneducated. 

“Damn, you’d think with all these classes, I’d be a lot less of an idiot,” Galliard remarked, trying to lighten the mood. 

“You’ll improve with time. I like to believe in people,” Pieck stated. When he caught up with her, she looked up and gave him a mellow expression. “But if you don’t, then that’s your problem and not mine.”

Galliard scoffed, “I appreciate the honesty.”

Pieck beamed, “As you should.” 

The office wasn’t too far off. Galliard knew they would get there soon. 

The front desk was coming into sight. Pieck rolled herself up to it and glanced over to the woman standing behind it. Galliard was not far behind. 

The desk was just a little too tall for Pieck to see over it completely. For the sake of time, Galliard decided to be the one to acknowledge her. 

“Excuse me?” he asked.

The woman behind the desk was on the phone. She looked Galliard in the eye and held up her finger, mouthing the words  _ ‘hold on’ _ to him. 

Understanding the situation, Galliard nodded and looked to Pieck. 

“This’ll just take a moment,” he said.

“I got time,” Pieck replied. “Choir teacher won’t get mad if I’m just a minute late.” She looked up at him calmly, “If you have nothing to do, you should really stop by.” 

Galliard raised an eyebrow, “Stop by choir practice?”

“Yeah,” Pieck insisted. “We’re always looking for new people to sing, or new people to stand in the background to work the triangle.”

“Thanks, but no thanks,” Galliard answered quickly. As tempting as the idea of choir could be, he had a dislocated shoulder that needed his care for the next few weeks. “I’m strictly a shower singer. I could never do it in front of other people.” 

With a sigh, Pieck shrugged, “You do you then, Porky.” With that she earned a glare, but she didn’t quite care. “Shame though, it’d be nice to see you more often.”

“Maybe once this locker fiasco is dealt with, we will,” Galliard presumed. 

“Still…” Pieck said. “It’s a shame.” 

“Uh… yeah, I guess it is,” Galliard decided. 

He didn’t know what, but there was something about Pieck that allured him. He liked her, or at least he thought so. 

They waited in silence for the woman behind the counter to finish her phone call. 

As the seconds moved on, Galliard thought about him, thought about Pieck, and came to the conclusion that they truly were quite a pair. 


End file.
